SWC: Sam and Dean's Series of Extraordinary Events
by Raptorsclaw
Summary: DISCLAIMER: I have never seen Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unusual Events", nor does this story have anything to do with that one.  But with all the weird stuff I put our boys through, it seemed to fit.  Second in the Sam Winchester Chronicles series.


_THEN: Sam and Dean met a young woman named Elizabeth Peabody, whose parents mysteriously died in their home. All signs showed that the weapon used was the angel blade. Castiel confirmed that Elizabeth's mother was, indeed, an angel, but that her father was human. Elizabeth, half angel and half human, had become a target for demons, who knew that heaven would use her to produce an angel army, but only if hell did not claim her first and turn her into one of their most powerful demons. Cas and the Winchesters raced to send Elizabeth to heaven before the Meg, the demon, could kill her- but not before Sam became the father of Elizabeth's child._

_NOW…._

"Excuse me," Sam said to the lady at the Dillons check-out counter. "Could you direct me to the baby food aisle?"

"Oh, certainly," the girl agreed, pointing to the left.

Sam nodded and smiled tightly. "Thanks."

The girl peeked at the baby wrapped in the yellow blanket. He was smiling at her, grayish-green eyes glimmering as he tiny hands and feet wriggled in the blanket. "Ooh, he's adorable!" she exclaimed. "How old is he?"

"Thirty-three," Sam answered promptly, without thinking.

The girl gave him a curious look. "Thirty-three?"

"Weeks," Sam added hastily, forcing a grin.

"Oh," the girl said. "New father, huh?"

Sam shook his head quickly. "No! No, he's not my son. I'm just… watching him for a few hours, is all."

"Well, he's a cutie. What's his name?"

Sam could barely keep his smile. "Dean."

_**The day before**_

the hotel room did at least have a microwave, which was a little better than most of their hotel rooms. Dean tore open the box of the lasagna TV dinner, poked holes in the plastic, put the tray in the microwave, and set the timer for five minutes. "I tell you what," he said to Sam as he sat back on his bed, "it's nice to be able to warm up my food in my room instead of a Quicktrip."

Sam was quiet, scrolling down a page on his computer at the table.

"So how's it going?" asked Dean. "Anything interesting besides the AC/DC concert Saturday?"

"Yeah, there actually is something here," Sam said. "Two deaths. First one, Marcus London, a fifty-year-old man. He was on a camping trip with his son, the two of them were eating rock candy, and Marcus was seized by an uncontrollable urge to go rock-climbing on the riverbank."

Dean frowned. "I've heard of rock hounds, but that's nuts."

"The guy was an accountant," Sam said. "According to his wife, his work was his passion. He only knew numbers. Nature held no interest for him. The only reason he was camping in the first place was because his son begged him. Now the mother is blaming the kid for Marcus falling to his death in the river."

Dean shook his head. "That's right, Mom, go ahead and rub it in, as though the kid doesn't feel bad enough already."

"Yeah," Sam agreed somberly.

"What about the other death?"

"Miley Warner," Sam said. "She was celebrating her twenty-fourth birthday, and she had pecan pie instead of cake."

Dean grinned. "Smart girl."

"She took one bite and ran out to the pecan tree in the backyard. She climbed the tree and picked and ate every pecan she found."

The timer went off and Dean got his dinner out of the microwave. He grabbed up a plastic fork from the cabinet and sat down on his bed to eat. "So how'd she die? Fall out of the tree?"

"Uh… no," Sam said, grimacing slightly. "She, um… ate herself to death."

Dean raised his eyebrows, looking about ready to laugh. "She what?"

"She died from overeating," Sam said.

"Is that even possible?" asked Dean. "Outside of some weird supernatural influence, that is?"

Sam shrugged. "Not to my knowledge. I mean, the last time something like that happened, it was Famine."

"Yeah, but that's not our problem here," Dean said. He realized Sam was looking at the TV dinner in Dean's lap. "C'mon, Sam, you can't possibly overeat on one of these things."

Sam shrugged resignedly and turned back to his computer.

Dean picked up the remote on the nightstand between his and Sam's beds and turned on the TV. He watched for a few moments, forking a bite of lasagna into his mouth, and then he burst out laughing.

Sam, startled out of his concentration, looked up at his brother. "What?"

Dean swallowed his mouthful and said happily, "One of the local stations is showing the old Get Smart series."

Sam made a funny face. "I didn't know you liked it that much."

Dean looked indignant. "It's a classic, dude." He turned up the volume.

Sam made a little guttural sound and kept reading.

Dean frowned at Sam's lack of interest. "You just never liked Don Adams' voice."

Sam gave him another funny look. "Who did?"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam shook his head in confusion as he read some more. "I don't see anything to indicate what killed them, unless they were possessed. Maybe someone had a grudge or something…." He looked up at Dean, who sat staring blankly at the TV. "… And maybe, uh- maybe someone used black magic to, uh…. Dean!" Sam abandoned his computer and hurried over to Dean, who continued to stare at the TV. Sam waved a hand in Dean's face. "Dean? Dean! Come on, man, wake up." He shook Dean's shoulders.

Dean squinted at Sam and said, in a high, nasal, clipped New England accent, "Hi, there! My name is Maxwell Smart, Agent 86 of Control. I'm sorry, but before we continue this conversation, I'll need the countersign. When the moon is full, the tide is high. What's the reply?"

Sam just stared at him, completely baffled. "Dean, come on, man, cut it out."

Dean looked around and said in that nasal voice, "Cut what out?"

"Dude, stop kidding around!"

Dean started feeling his clothes, the blue jeans, the black leather jacket. "I must be disguised as a biker. Well-" He smiled and clapped his hands together. "What's my next assignment?" He got up and started pacing around the room. At one point, he tripped over the edge of the rug, yanking it out from under Sam. Both of them collapsed on the floor in a heap. Dean got up and helped Sam regain his feet. "Sorry about that, Chief." He started dusting Sam off.

Sam flung Dean's hands away from him and shook Dean's shoulders. "Dean, stop screwing around, please!" His tone held more desperation than anger.

In the fall, one of Dean's sleeves had scrunched up, revealing his forearm. Sam now noticed a crocodile tattooed on the inside of Dean's elbow. "What's this?" Sam demanded.

Dean frowned at the mark. "Well, off-hand, I'd say it's a crocodile-shaped tattoo on the inside of my right elbow."

Sam made a supreme effort not to roll his eyes. "What's it doing there?"

Dean frowned harder. "I'm not sure. I guess someone put it there while I was asleep sometime."

"Do you have any idea who?"

Dean shook his head. "No, I don't."

Sam went back to his computer and started clicking rapidly. "This can't be good," he muttered. He was looking at a picture of a similar tattoo. "Marcus and Miley both had tattoos like that on their arms. I think somebody's marked you for death." He looked up at Dean, who was doing a disco-style dance. A commercial for a disco music CD was playing on TV. "Dean?"

"Looking for some hot stuff, baby, this evening- woop, woop!"

Sam stared, mouth agape, as Dean moon-walked across the room. The first thing Sam thought was, _Where did he learn to do that?_

That commercial ended, and a commercial for some new vampire movie began. Dean bared his teeth and leaped on Sam, chewing on his brother's neck. Sam flung him away and dashed for the remote, quickly switching to a cartoon channel playing Bugs Bunny. Sam sat back on the bed and breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, this is harmless," he said.

Bugs: You keep out of this. He doesn't have to shoot you now.

Daffy: Well, I say he _does_ have to shoot me now! (runs to Elmer) So shoot me now!

(Elmer blasts Daffy)

A round of rock salt slammed into the wall behind Sam. He looked up and saw Dean holding his sawed-off. "I'm gonna get you, you wascawwy wabbit! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!" He raised the gun again.

Sam leaped at Dean and knocked the gun away. Rock salt blasted the ceiling. A large chunk of plaster fell on Dean's head, knocking him unconscious. Sam hurried to him and checked his pulse. Normal, thank God.

Sam was about to turn off the TV when a horrible thought came to him: if Dean was affected by whatever was on TV, turning it off could kill him. Sam turned the TV to the "video 1" channel, which showed as nothing but a blank screen. Then Sam started searching the room, looking for some evidence of who might have marked Dean.


End file.
